


Alignment

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff without Plot, Post-Episode: s03e13 Syzygy, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: Mulder knew that if he would fall asleep and let her relax, she wouldn’t be able to stay awake.





	Alignment

“Scully?”  
“What?”  
"It’s 3am,” she didn’t move, just kept clutching the wheel, their world reduced to twin rays of light outside the windshield, “we should stop.”  
She kept ignoring him, though thankfully didn’t take out her anger on the gas pedal anymore.  
“You can sleep if you want,” she replied, cold.  
Mulder knew that if he would fall asleep and let her relax, she wouldn’t be able to stay awake. “There’s a motel in 10 miles, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed.” Her stubborn silence spoke volumes, “we both need rest.”  
No one else would notice her blinking sleep away, her shoulders squared, face composed to the point of a mask. She was dead tired but her pride wouldn't let her admit weakness, even a completely understandable human need like sleep. Someone had to give.  
"Please?"  
"Fine."  
Mulder took her almost imperceptible sigh for a small step to patching things up.  
She pulled into the motel parking lot and got out after him. The cold hour before the dawn turning their breaths into fog. A lonely owl hooted in the distance, breaking the eerie silence of a remote country highway. 

"I only have one room," the clerk yawned.  
"You're joking, right?" Scully snorted and Mulder, though equally surprised, ignored her tone, choosing this fight over who's driving the rest of the way. He really was tired.  
"Two singles or double?"  
"Double," the clerk replied, keeping one eye on the tv hidden behind the counter.  
"We'll take it."  
"Mulder!"  
"You have a cot I can borrow?" He was reaching for his wallet when she tugged at his sleeve, pulling him outside. “Just a minute”  
"Mulder, no.” She didn’t jab him with her finger, but it was close. “We're not sharing a bed."  
"I planed to sleep on the floor," he replied, but couldn't stop the smile at her suggestion.  
"We can go back on the road," she crossed her arms and looked up, defiance in her bloodshot eyes.  
"We can't, but we're grownups and we can handle sharing a room."  
"I'm not..." She started, but held back the next remark. He had a distinct feeling there was some Detective White reference he dodged. Reason, she would listen to that.  
"We're both dead on our feet and this was a crazy few days, let's just get some sleep."  
"Fine." She stomped back to the car, unlocked it and got in, leaving Mulder to checked them in. He added a late checkout fee, and went back to the car.  
"I'm taking the shower first." Scully announced.  
"Fine, room 13." That at least made her smile. 

She didn't use up all the hot water. As it hit his skin, he noticed a burn mark on his thigh. It took a moment to realize it was from his gun going off when the girls went wild. It stung but wasn't life threatening. For a second he debated playing the injury card, but decided against it, felt like cheating.  
Glad to be rid of the scent of gun powder, pulling on pj's and brushing his teeth, Mulder almost felt like himself again, his head cleared. The booze, the strange scents that kept following him around, now it all seemed laughable, a cosmic misunderstanding. If it wasn't for the deaths; a sobering thought. He rinsed and turned off the lights, expecting Scully to be asleep by now. 

She wasn't. She sat in bed, notepad in hand, scribbling by the light of her night lamp, case notes probably. The makeshift bed he made for himself on the floor was gone, pillow back on the bed.  
"We're both adults," she said quietly, glancing up once, searching for challenge.  
"Thank you." He didn't dare question kindness.

Her weight on the other side of the bed felt oddly comfortable. Though she stayed on her side and facing away, her warmth made him calmer, sleep came easier. He didn't want to contemplate what it meant, to have a woman 8 inches away and fell like sleeping, considering his dating average.  
"Mulder?" Scully spoke quietly, as if in a dream.  
"Hmm?"  
"Am I rigid?" Her choice of words made him flinch.  
"Why?"  
"Something Detective White said." He promised himself to shut up, next time he felt like opening his mouth.  
"You're not rigid," he sighed, burrowing deeper, hoping she will take the hint, "you're methodical, structured."  
Silence. He started to drift off again, the warmth melting his bones into the mattress.  
"I'm sorry I called you a big macho man."  
The slightest sound outside would make him miss that, but he did not. Something was still keeping her awake, something other than the case.  
"Are you questioning my manhood?" He teased gently, rolling to his side, three inches away from her back. If the darkness made it safe for her to talk, he wasn't going to miss that chance.  
"Forget about it, it wasn’t my place." She tried to cover the slip, but his curiosity was already piqued.  
"What?"  
"It's your private life."  
"What about it?"  
"First Dr Bambi, now Detective White." Was that hurt in her tone? He must have missed it before because her accusation stung too hard. "It's none of my business, just don't..."  
"Scully," he sighed, cutting her off. Darkness made certain things speak louder than words.  
Aware, that he was probably risking his life, he touched her arm. If she'd freeze, flinch away or shake him off he would back off, but she did something far worse. She collapsed in on herself, as if caught red handed, showing feelings. Feelings of others she could deal with, but showing her own felt like weakness and she never liked to look weak. Now her doubt was cutting a rift between them, one he couldn't allow, so he closed the distance. If she could shoot him to save him, he could hold her together tonight.  
She didn't stop him, not with word or motion, so he held on, loosely holding her to his chest, thinking calm thoughts. For someone with such powerful presence she felt small, like a spoonful of lead. Her feet were cold and all he could see was her earlobe, side of an elegant neck and the clasp of a pearl earring. He wouldn’t mind seeing more of that, but it wasn’t his place either, as much as he would like it to be.  
"Nothing happened," he said softly. Not to his partner or friend, but to her and in his voice was her right and her place, before all others, because her opinion mattered. Because the truth was, bugs freaked him out, and he didn't really care about hair colors. What he cared about was heart and character, and she had both, in perfect balance. "And I love your tiny feet, your feet kick ass."  
She huffed out a small laugh, shifting, gradually filling the mold of his arms, letting go of whatever it was that plagued her thoughts. Her body spoke for her, accepting his words. They drifted together, anchored again to one shore. _Bambi and Fox, ridiculous,_ was his last thought. 

 

The edge of dream was smooth and soft, warmed by spring sunrise outside the window. The edge of dream shifted back and forth and smelled like a woman, a subtle perfume he knew and loved. The dream itself was small and fit his arms just right.  
“It was you,” he murmured, nose to her neck, “it was you all along.”


End file.
